


someone will remember us

by madeofstarlights



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Death, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Mild Language, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Suggestive Themes, Yorkshin City | Yorknew City (Hunter X Hunter), Yorkshin City | Yorknew City Arc (Hunter X Hunter), couldnt get this outta my head so here it is, no beta lol sorry, yorknew city arc spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28455936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeofstarlights/pseuds/madeofstarlights
Summary: Pakunoda sighed as she pulled the younger one’s body closer. “I really wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”“That’s a bit corny, don’t you think?”“That could happen, though. I can shoot my memory bombs at you–”“Oh, fuck, no,” Machi interrupted. “Don’t waste that on me. Plus, I would like to never perceive myself, thank you very much.”Pakunoda chuckled. “If I die first, then.”- or -Pakunoda gets what she wished for.
Relationships: Machi & Pakunoda (Hunter X Hunter), Machi/Pakunoda
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	someone will remember us

**Author's Note:**

> hello helloooo happy new year!!! im still in quarantine so im spending my last day of 2020 writing this lol anyway i hope you enjoy this fic!!

They say, just before your soul leaves the body, your life would flash in a kaleidoscope of memories right before your eyes.

Which sounds like a load of bullshit.

Machi has never experienced death, so she couldn’t speak from experience. But death and she have been working together for quite some time now, as a partner of crime, if you will – the unofficial fourteenth member of the Phantom Troupe. She knows what it looks like when death arrives in one’s soul. But there was always nothing.

Feitan once told her that if there were any activity in the eye or the mind, the body would’ve reacted, even if it’s subtle, and Machi has tried _most_ things – snapping heads, slitting throats, crushing hearts, splattering brains, whatever – and the reaction of their facial expressions varies, sure. But the eyes? Unchanged.

It was almost disappointing. She knew she wouldn’t be able to see the memories anyway, but she wanted to see that split second of change, the exact moment death reaped the soul. But when people die, they just fall. And nothing else has changed, except the fact that there’s one more body up in her kill count, but who cares? It’s not like anyone keeps tabs on things like that.

So Machi deemed the theory to be false. Maybe it was a lovely bedtime story parents tell their children to comfort them about the concept of dying. Maybe it was something people tell their grandparents on their deathbeds to distract them from their nonexistent future. Whatever was the case, Machi called it bullshit – just a stupid, baseless fairytale –

– Until she saw herself in a place she once called home.

Arid land.

Sweltering heat.

A small, young girl with uneven magenta hair chopped above the shoulder, scars that were still bleeding all over her body, and broken bits of threads around her feet that got carried by the wind.

Oh, Machi recognizes that scene, alright. She and Meteor City, sometime ten years ago.

_Is this it, then? Am I on the verge of death?_

_But if so, why do I see myself as if through another’s eyes?_

Then she hears a voice that wasn’t hers spoken, “You need a hand?”

Her younger self looked up to her and muttered, “need a leg, too.”

A laugh bubbled up in her throat, a familiar sound that Machi knew all too well. A hand was offered to young Machi, and –

Machi recognizes the pattern on the cuff.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Well, come then,” the voice spoke again.

 _It’s okay_ , Machi thought as she watched her younger self hesitated to reach the hand that seemed to be hers. _You can trust her. You won’t hurt anymore_.

Reluctantly, her past self reached the woman’s hand, staining the hem of her gold-lined cuff with blood, and stood up, although her stance was wobbly due to the injuries on her legs. Machi remembered how much it stings.

“What’s your name?” the voice asked gently, supporting the younger’s body with her arms.

“Komacine,” her past self answered. “Machi.”

_Heh. Nice name._

Machi could still picture the smile on the other woman’s face upon their first meeting that day.

“I’m Pakunoda.”

  
  
  
  


_Paku_ , Machi called. _Paku, what’s the meaning of this? Why are you showing me this memory –_

  
  
  
  


Blocks of stone.

Bandages.

Pakunoda, her, and three other people who were obviously lurking in the shadow trying to hide but young Machi noticed the three pairs of eyes watching her intently anyway.

“I saw you a lot around here,” Pakunoda spoke. “But you seemed to do well on your own, so I never approached you.”

“I noticed,” young Machi murmured. “I never got to thank you.”

“Hm? For what?”

“That time, on the alley near the Gast, when I was chased by thugs for stealing their jewelry. I remember my legs were injured and I wouldn’t have escaped them if they didn’t suddenly drop dead.”

“That was all you.”

“No,” her past self shook her head. “I thought it was my threads, but I went back for the body and found bullets on their hearts.”

Machi could feel Pakunoda’s smile as her younger self looked up and stared at her straight in the eye. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

“And here I thought I was being subtle,” Pakunoda laughed. “How do you know it was me? You don’t have any friends that use guns?”

“I don’t have _friends_. And I saw you a lot too. You used to have long hair before–”

“Before she lost a bet to _me_ ,” a man in a camo green tank top appeared, grinning as he and the other two figures showed themselves.

_Phinks, you motherfucker. You guys really need to learn how to conceal yourselves better._

_But no worries. We were all stupid back then. You’ll get better soon enough._

“Heh.” past Phinks chuckled. “How ‘bout that, Paku? She actually _remembers_ you!”

Pakunoda laughed, not taking her eyes off Machi. “It’s a good thing I finally have the gall to approach you, huh?”

Machi watches through Pakunoda’s eyes as her hands wrapped the last bandage on her younger self’s knee, took her hands, and spoke with a soft voice, “Now, come one. There’s someone who’d like to meet you.”  
  
  
  


Machi remembers having nothing.

Her past was something she never bothers to speak about to anyone – partly because she fails to see how it would be relevant, but also because there was nothing there. Even after she joined the Troupe, and everyone was telling stories of their lives before becoming a Spider, all Machi could say was “Was sold for debt money. Ran away to Meteor City. Give myself a name which probably took 10 seconds probably. Met Paku. Met you guys.”

To which Pakunoda laughed and replied, “Oh, there’s more to that. There’s _so much more_ to that. You’re not gonna tell them about how you escaped the fucking _mafia_ who bought you–”

“There’s nothing special about running away.”

“– at only, what, how old were you again back then? Fiftee–”

“Fourteen.”

“Fourteen! You were _this_ tiny–” Pakunoda placed a hand on her hip. “–defenseless, weaponless, and you haven’t even learned anything about Nen. And –”

“I was _not_ that tiny.”

“– speaking of Nen! You’re not gonna talk about how you learned a whole ass concept, managed to perform it on your own without anyone’s guidance, _and_ invented a badass technique? _At fourteen_? Or maybe fifteen through until we met, I don’t know.”

“Everyone learns Nen.”

“Yeah, but you were something else.” Pakunoda gushed. “Come on, at least give us _something_ , Komacine.”

But at that time, Machi said nothing. At that time, Machi just averted the question and directed the attention to the newest recruit of the group at the time, Shizuku, to tell them about her life before the Troupe and what the fuck Blinky exactly was.

 _Because there was nothing_ , Machi thought. _Not until you came along and gave me a family. All I did before that was simply surviving._

_Now I start living because of you._

  
  
  
  


A pond.

Moonlight.

The woods.

“Look at the moon,” Pakunoda breathed. Machi watches her younger self, in the black dress she remembers getting destroyed later that year in a fire, look up to the sky as Pakunoda spoke again, “beautiful, isn’t it?”

And it was beautiful. Machi remembers the scenery. It was sometime around three years ago, right after they performed a heist on the Sotheria auction because Chrollo was itching to get a necklace with a diamond pendant called the lunae lumen, among other things. Pakunoda and Machi were thrilled because it means that they’d get to take whatever jewels they fancied in the auction, but they didn’t expect the auction house to be in the middle of the fucking woods.

Well, no matter. Maybe they do need to get away from the city sometimes.

Past Machi snorted. “That’s awfully romantic for someone who’s currently being hunted down.”

“Fun, right? I’ll ask Chrollo to pair us together again if there are any group missions in the future. In the meantime,” Pakunoda fished her phone from her dress pocket, and a slow tune Machi has heard countless times was played – a recording of Primavera by Ludovico Einaudi.

_Oh, no, Paku. Why show me this memory now?_

Pakunoda held out her hand and bowed. “Will you dance with me, Komacine?”

Who was she to resist?

As her past self reached for Pakunoda’s hand, bodies moving together to the tune of the song and getting closer by each movement, Machi watches everything through Pakunoda’s eyes – the way her magenta moved like silk down her back, the way her blue eyes never leaving Pakunoda’s deep brown one, the way the moonlight illuminated every curve of her face, the way their fingers laced together so delicately around each other’s, and she thought –

She thought she looked pretty.

Through Pakunoda’s eyes, for the first time in her life, she thought she looked pretty that night.

 _Paku. How dare you make me think of things like this_.

Past Machi grinned. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Of course,” Pakunoda pulled past Machi closer with her hands on her waist. “We might not be alive by the end of tonight, so why not fall in love one more time?”

“That’s so dramatic. They’ll never catch us.”

“I know,” Pakunoda laughed, and Machi wishes more than _anything_ to be able to see her own memory instead, just to see that smile again. “But isn’t it exhilarating to pretend that the danger’s there?”

“I suppose,” past Machi grinned.

“So, what do you say?” Pakunoda tilted Machi’s chin up. Machi could still feel the butterflies in her stomach she felt that night. “Wanna fall in love? One more time?”

Even with heels on, her past self had to tiptoe to kiss Pakunoda. “Plenty of times after that, too.”

“Oh, absolutely. It’s not like I can ever stop.”

With the sounds of footsteps approaching from the distance and a last twirl from Machi, both women paused and grinned at each other.

“Wanna finish them off?” Pakunoda smirked, loaded bullets into her gun. “And we’ll pick up our dance after this?”

Machi’s past self smirked with her threads ready in her hands, “Sure. The one with the most kills gets to pick the next song.”

“Deal.”

  
  
  
  


_Paku._

_Paku, what are you doing?_

_Get me out of here. I want to see you_.

  
  
  
  


The scent of linen.

Cotton-soft sheets.

Bodies laying together.

The most recent memories, on the night before they flew to Yorknew City for the auction, Machi notes.

“Tell me more about it,” Pakunoda whispered.

“Well,” Machi started. “I knew I had to escape. If I were to become trash, at least I should be a free one, right?”

“What?”

“I am worth nothing. The woman who birthed me gave me away to become the mafia’s slave just to pay her debts. And I thought, well, damn. If I’m truly worth nothing, I should be free, at least.” her eyes glowed in the dim light. “So I escaped to Meteor City.”

“Yeah, I saw you that day,” Pakunoda said, fiddling with Machi’s fingers. “You were running through the desert the first time we saw you – Nobunaga, Phinks, and I. We didn’t really care at first, but Nobunaga was impressed by how resilient you were, especially without Nen. Then I remember the cave you went in suddenly fell, and…”

“...And I was trapped in it. That cave saved my ass – the people who chased me thought I was dead.”

“So did we. Nobunaga was pretty disappointed, but he told Chrollo about you. Then Chrollo told us that he bet you’re not dead yet and sent Phinks and Feitan to the rubbles.”

“What did they find?”

“Nothing. Not even a strand of your hair,” Pakunoda smiled. “Then I saw you again a few months after that, by the stream.”

“Yeah. Good thing, huh? That ‘death’ liberated me. I was nothing, no one. I don’t exist. And in Meteor City, you’re worth as much as the junk lying next to you, so–”

“Machi,” Pakunoda called, suddenly grabbing Machi’s bare shoulders. “You really think of yourself that way?”

“Huh? I mean, it’s just what it is.”

Pakunoda sighed as she pulled the younger one’s body closer. “I really wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

“That’s a bit corny, don’t you think?”

“That could happen, though. I can shoot my memory bombs at you–”

“Oh, fuck, no,” Machi interrupted. “Don’t waste that on me. Plus, I would like to never perceive myself, thank you very much.”

Pakunoda chuckled. “If I die first, then.”

“Bold of you to assume we won’t die together.”

“Oh? And whatever do you mean by that, Komacine?”

“Like hell I’ll let you die before me. We die together or we don’t die.”

“Is that your way of proposing to me?”

“Mm, who knows,” Machi purred, snuggling into Pakunoda’s chest. 

“That sounds an awful lot like _til death do us part_.”

“Only if you’ll have me.”

“You don’t need to ask,” Pakunoda brushed her thumb on Machi’s lips and kissed her. “Life or death, who the fuck cares? As long as you’re with me.”  
  
  
  


_Fuck, Paku, you weren’t showing me your memories, weren’t you?_

_You were giving it_.

  
  
  
  


Pakunoda’s eyes.

Pakunoda’s eyes were the only thing Machi sees when she returns back to reality.

When the effects from Pakunoda’s memory bomb has worn off, her mind was filled with fragments of memories – her own, this time – that she’s shared with the blonde in the last ten years they’ve been together. The first time she made Pakunoda laughed, the first time they held hands, the time they confessed to each other, their first kiss, their first fight, the first time she’d felt Pakunoda’s body against hers – the last time she heard Pakunoda’s laugh, the last time they fingers intertwined with each other’s, the last time she said _i love you_ , the last time she heard _i love you_ , their last kiss, their last fight, the last time they made love to each other – everything came back in motions, flying in colors, like a movie that reminds her that these are the things she’ll never have again. Machi could almost grasp it. Almost.

As she watches the last light leave Pakunoda’s eyes, Machi understands. The kaleidoscope of memories did come back, after all.

A hand rested on her shoulders.

“Machi,” Phinks speaks. “I’ll fill everyone in about Paku’s memories.”

Machi blinks. “What?”

“About the chain bastard.”

Machi almost forgot about that.

“Okay.” Machi nods, willing her feet to kneel beside Pakunoda’s lifeless body. “I’ll… bury her.”

“I’ll join you for her funeral,” Phinks says with sad eyes, but still manages to offer Machi a small consolation smile. “I’m… sorry, Machi.”

“Hm.”

Perhaps this was bound to happen. Death had been working with the Troupe for as long as it existed, perhaps it was right for it to demand a soul for all its services. Or perhaps it was karma that follows, for bringing death to so many innocent people who don't deserve it. Perhaps it has always been foolish of them to dream of forever when their number of days are never guaranteed, their lives risked over and over again to achieve a goal that perhaps was never meant to be achieved. Perhaps this was Machi’s punishment for all her sins that she has yet to atone, and perhaps it was hypocritical of her to feel sad about death as if she hasn’t done the same thing to countless people before.

But still…

 _You did get your wish in the end, huh, Paku_? Machi thought, leaning over and kissed Pakunoda’s forehead.

_I’m sorry I didn’t get mine._

**Author's Note:**

> so... yea. one of my attempts at giving the troupe member a background story :D i hope i did them justice. thank you so much for reading!! kudos, comments, and bookmarks are very very much appreciated!! also constructive criticism are welcome, please tell me how i can improve my writing!! :D oh also i do have a twitter and a tumblr (@komacinne for both) so don't hesitate to say hi if u wanna :D


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